


rose

by hhhobi (orphan_account)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Suicide, Unrequited Love, Vomiting, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 02:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14095218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/hhhobi
Summary: unrequited love is next to unbearable.





	rose

**Author's Note:**

> all aboard the angst train hoes, it’s leaving the station. 
> 
> seriously though, huge tw for suicide and self harm,, PLEASE DON’T READ IF YOU’RE SENSITIVE TO THAT!! YOUR SAFETY IS MORE IMPORTANT. 
> 
> now that that’s out the way, let’s get riiiiiiiiiiight into the news-

_The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals. It can be cured without side effects only when the feelings are returned._

_Unrequited love can kill._

.-.-.-.

  
The party was in full swing. Glowing chandeliers of candles swung elegantly from the ceiling. The smell of alcohol and overly perfumed flowers was pungent in the air. It was impossible to walk a foot without bumping into at least one drunken life form.

But he didn't join the party. He didn't let loose and enjoy himself. Instead, he stood in the corner of the room behind a marble pillar, mind racing. His eyes were red and his cheeks were damp; wether the crying was from happiness or misery was unbeknownst to him.

_To the groom! To the bride!_

His eyes were delicately trained on the groom. He watched how his eyes filled with happiness whenever he looked at his bride. How his long hair shone in the dim candlelight. How his smile was bright enough to light the whole room. A familiar nauseating feeling washed over John when he thought about the married couple. Jealousy was not a good quality. He pushed the feeling down like he was used to.

The attacks were bearable. Painful, but bearable. The first had been the worst, petals ripping through his throat and spewing uncontrollably out of his mouth. Barbaric, but bearable. He just didn't understand why it was happening. Until it clicked.

_Alexander._

It seemed like only yesterday that Alex and himself were singing drunkenly in bars, whispering jokes in each other's ears and possibly flirting. Wether their relationship was just platonic or slightly romantic, John wasn't sure. What he was sure of was that he was in love with Alexander Hamilton.

He wasn't proud of it. He knew about Hanahaki Disease. He knew he was affected by it. He was truly disgusted with himself. He hated himself for it, for loving another man. He had to deal with the consequences. He had to live with it.

But living with unrequited love was next to unbearable. 

He looked around for some kind of solace. Something to distract him from the pain, and his eyes immediately laid on Angelica Schuyler, drinking like she was also trying to drown her sorrows. Perfect. Her eyes caught his, and she walked over slowly, long pink dress flowing across the marble floor.

"John, I haven't seen you in a while, how are things?" She asked politely, and John pointedly made an effort to engage. "Things are... fine. But I want to hear about you-"

"John. It's okay." She said over him, her voice laced with sympathy. The freckled boy stared, confused. "I don't know..." he trailed off.

She put a hand to his shoulder, something that was comforting but also screaming at John to run and not look back. Too late for that.

"Laurens. I see how you look at him. You look at him the way I look at him. With love." She said softly, somehow putting John's situation into much simpler words. John didn't speak. He just listened to her, shocked but curious. So she continued.

"I know how much you love him; in a way two  
men shouldn't. I can see it in everything you do. And I know how it feels, because I feel it too. And before you say I couldn't possibly understand, that at least the whole world isn't against our relationship and it couldn't end up with us being killed, I at least know what it's like to love Alexander Hamilton and him not love me back." She says, not a hint of restraint in her voice. She turns to face the boy beside her, looking deep into his eyes.

"And for that, I am truly sorry, John. I can't imagine what it's like to have the whole world against you, having the fear of your secret spreading, a secret that could end in death if the wrong people found out. But I will always be there for you, no matter if you choose to love another man or not. You're the same John Laurens to me." She smiled weakly, watching as John's face began to crumple, the reality finally sinking in.

He buried his head into Angelica's shoulder, tears prickling his eyes. "It hurts so much." He managed to choke out, not wanting to lift his head up from this spot ever. But eventually he did, and he faced Angelica dead on. "Go talk to him. Congratulate him; we both know he deserves this." She said, pushing John away gently, and walking over to another group of people.

John's eyes scanned the room for the second time tonight. Alexander was making idle conversation with Lafayette, most likely about the revolution. To the left was Eliza, who was dancing with Peggy, their dresses billowing from their sudden movements.

John kept his eyes on Eliza. He watched her. Eliza. Such a beautiful and elegant woman. Acute black eyes and tresses of silky, dark hair that flowed past her shoulders delicately. Her smile that rivalled the sun. Not to mention her personality; kind, loyal, trusting. But also strong willed and determined. No wonder Alexander had fallen head over heels for her. John didn't hold a candle to Eliza Schuyler.

He felt the familiar tears well up in his eyes, and he willed them not to spill over. Suddenly, the band struck up a well known tune and a large quantity of people moved to the dance floor. This was his chance. His last chance to speak to Alex before he was married and John was cast aside. Darting nimbly through the crowds, he sidled up next to Alex and forced a smile

"My Dearest Laurens!" John hitched his breath, because that nickname stung more than it should have. "I've been searching everywhere for you! Care to dance with an old friend one last time?" Alex extended a hand to John, who took it gently.

_God, John never wanted to let go of his hand._

_The_ pair stepped onto the dance floor, Alex placing his hands gently on John's waist and John responding by wrapping his arms over Alex's neck. Emerald orbs met chocolate and the pair smiled warmly at each other. It was bittersweet, John supposed. It would be over so soon. He was never one for living in the moment, preferring to dwell in the past or future.

It all happened so suddenly. One minute, Alex had John in stitches, recounting an anecdote of the time they first met, then the next, John had sunk to the floor, familiar waves of nausea passing over him and Alex kneeling beside him, rubbing his back in soothing circles. Several heads turned their way.

Clutching his stomach, John began to throw up petal after petal after petal. Daisies, tulips, pansies, you name it. It seemed never ending. Pink and blue littered the marble floor; everyone was looking now. A particularly large flower stuck in John's throat, and he heaved and retched trying to remove it. It burned. It was a rose, deep red and thorny.

The worst was over, save for occasionally coughing up a few petals, and John was only half conscious. The music had stopped and people stared, some muttering condolences and others shrieking. John was too dizzy to care. He was so tired. He registered a pair of arms picking him up bridal style and walking out of the room.

He was placed on a soft chair in a hotel room. Alex sat by his side, stroking his hair lightly. The Schuylers, Lafayette and Hercules sat scattered around the room. John began to regain consciousness, and he noticed that everyone was crying. That was his fault. This is why you shouldn't be alive, you useless peice of shit.

He hadn't regained the ability to speak properly yet, but gave Alex that look that asked if they could be alone, a look he was given often. "Hey, do you mind if we have a minute alone?" Everyone complied, Angelica closing the door softly after her exit. Alex moved closer to John, helping the taller boy sit up properly.

"What happened out there John? You were fine one minute and the next..." Alex asked concernedly, voice trailing off. John coughed, a singular petal falling delicately to the ground as he tried desperately to form words.

"I... assume you know of Hanahaki?" John questioned, staring quizzically at Alexander. Hanahaki was exceedingly well known, almost everyone was aware of it. "Of course, but if the cause is unrequited love, you must be so in love with someone for that to have happened so severely... so, who is she? I bet she's really pretty." So he was still as oblivious as ever, huh? John sighed, partly out of frustration, partly out of pity.

It was eating away at him. He had to tell Alex. Now. It was now or never. 'The worst thing he can do is push me away, which may break me, but I'm already pretty fucked up anyway.' John thought. Deep breath in.

"It's you, Alexander. It's always been you."

Silence.

He heard Alex inhale. "John, I-"

He didn't want to hear it. To have his heart shattered there and then. He was already completely broken. "No Alex, I get it. I'm gross, disgusting. And you don't want anything to do with me, so I'll just go." He stood up, distancing himself as far from Alexander as possible.

But was pulled back by Alex grabbing his wrist and turning him so they were face to face. There were so many emotions written on Alex's face. Hurt. Confusion. Guilt. Sympathy. John didn't want to look at this for much longer. "What I was trying to say is that, in so many ways, I love you too, John Laurens, but I can't-"

Something inside him snapped. Telling him to get the fuck out before he broke down in front of the man he just confessed his love to. "I get it, okay? I love you so much, and I get you love me too, but not in a way that will ever be enough for me. I understand that. Just please don't be mad, okay?" John smiled weakly. A wave of confusion crossed Alex's face when John told him to not be mad, but John didn't have time for that. Before this could go any further, John had sprinted out of the room, out of the hall. Out of Alex's life.

His house was one ten minute jog away, and the second he walked past the doorframe, he knew what he was going to do, even if he would regret it later. Reaching for the top shelf, where he kept his strongest liquor, John took out a glass and began to drink. Drink until his thoughts clouded into one big blur in his mind. Until his pain, that was like being stabbed repeatedly before the drinking, was now just a dull throbbing sensation in his skull.

Drunk John couldn't think rationally, and the next thought was one that may have seemed stupid a few hours ago. In a cupboard under the sink, there was a broken piece of glass. Only for emergencies. John knew it wasn't healthy, that the cuts would just bring more pain later on, but right now, it was the only thing that could give him the release he needed.

He reached for it, his hand wavering, unsure where to start. He placed the tip over his wrist, seriously considering. His thoughts were just clouded with memories of Alex.

Alex.

Alex Alex Alex.

.-.-.-.

Alexander just stood, unsure what to do now that his best friend had declared his love for him and then run away. He confided in Lafayette, who told him that John probably needed time; although something was off.

'Please don't be mad?'

What did that mean...

Unless...? No. John wouldn't. He hadn't in months. He had been getting better. Alex removed all sharp objects from his possession ages ago. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

Would he?

Alex had to make sure. He ran, away from his own wedding, as fast as his legs could carry him, all the way to John's home. Immediately, something was wrong. The door was ajar and all the lights were off, aside from one down the hallway. "John?" Alex called our tentatively. No response. His feet carried him automatically to the end of the hall.

He didn't want to open the door, fearing the worst. Deep down in his gut, he could feel that this wasn't right. When the opened the door, his thoughts were solidified.

Knees buckling underneath him, he sank to the floor at the sight of his best friend, lying lifeless in a pool of dark stains underneath him. Alex resisted the urge to vomit, and averted his eyes from the uneven, jagged cuts that were unevenly scattered across John's pale wrists.

Tears were pouring out faster than he sold control. There was no sound, but silent sobs and thoughts that he could've prevented this. But this was the harsh reality. A reality he couldn't protect John from. Even if he tried, his best wasn't good enough to save his friend. His best friend that deserved the entire world, for how much shit he had gone through in life. Such a short life.

Alexander managed to recover enough to notice a piece of paper in John's hand, crumpled and stained. He remembers picking it up and unfolding it, his heart saying not to read it, as it was possible for a heart to break multiple times.

_Alexander,_  
_Even though you may not love me back, I love you to the ends of this Earth. I would walk through time and galaxies for you. And even if I'm not here to say that, it will always be true, no matter what. In some other time, perhaps we would be able to live in a world free of hate and discrimination, whether that be against the colour of your skin or who you love, and we could be together. However, that is not this reality, and this reality is one I can't bear to live in anymore. Please, never forget that I love all of you, so, so much, and let my death not be in vain._

_Yours,_  
_Dearest Laurens._

Clutching the last remaining words from his best friend, Alex cried. Cried until his body was completely dry. Sobbed until he was eventually found by his friends, and all he remembers is being carried away and waking up in his bed, alone.

For the rest of his life, everyday without fail, he thinks of how he misses John Laurens, and how he wishes he could've told him the truth.

That he loved him too. 

**Author's Note:**

> you made it this far without cringing out of existence, congrats. 
> 
> thanks for reading guys, ily xox


End file.
